Hunting Mayflies
by Always Odd One Out
Summary: When love is war, the trick is to win. Meryl can't figure out why she's drawn to someone she hates, and Vash can't untangle his feelings for the small insurance girl. VxM
1. Chapter 1

A/N: A late night vignette, which might---just might---become a story later on. It's completely not my style, but I'll give it a go and see what people think of it. Make my day, review the story, etc. Warning: the following story is the product of 1.5 hours of physics and vecters. Don't blame me...

Disclaimer: No, I don't own any Trigun characters...except for the ones chained in my basement._ --winks at Sinically Disturbed--_

* * *

**Hunting Mayflies  
By: The Hellcat**

"I don't think you're turning it the right way."

Meryl gave an exaggerated sigh, her jaw tightening at Vash's complaining. "Vash, for the last time: righty tighty, lefty loosey."

"I don't think that applies to plumbing. Here—" Vash placed his hand over Meryl's easing the wrench left. The pipe gave an ominous clinking sound, and Meryl jerked her hand away.

"Vash," she said warningly. "That doesn't sound good. I think—" her words were drowned out by a telltale groaning. Suddenly the pipe burst in an eruption of dishwater. Water hissed from the spigot, dampened the floor. A very wet, very pissed-off Meryl Stryfe flopped sopping hair from her eyes, shooting Vash a death glare.

Vash offered a chagrined smile, ringing water from his shirt. "Imagine that," he laughed weakly.

"Vash..." Meryl growled.

"Hey, I just remembered, I've got a—an appointment I have to keep. Sorry about the mess," he blundered, edging away from the hellcat.

"Oh, no you don't!" Meryl cried, snatching at Vash's sleeve. "You're cleaning this up!"

"Bur Meryl!" Vash whined. "I have a—"

"An appointment. I heard. Meryl picked up the wrench, ducking beneath the spray of water and tightening the valve. "So," she grunted, heaving her weight against the wrench. "You're going to mop up this...unh...water..." She paused, panting, "while I fix _your_ mess."

"Insurance gir—"

"_Now_, Vash." Meryl pushed wet bangs back from her forehead, rivulets of water running down her cheeks like tears, glistening in the sunlight.

"Yes, Meryl," Vash said glumly, plodding out of the room to search for a mop.

Meryl shook her head, sending droplets of water flying. "That—broom-head," she muttered fondly, twisting the valve. With a screech, the water petered out to a steady trickle. Meryl adjusted her grip on the wrench, repositioning herself. From somewhere near the closet came a loud thump, quickly followed by the ex-gunman's muffled voice:

"It's alright! I'm _o_-kay."

A smile touched the insurance girl's lips; she gave the pipe a final tweak, rocking back on her heels. It was a crude job, and she'd lost footing in her battle with the faucet—it would still leak, thanks to thatskirt-chasingidiot. Meryl rolled her eyes. Now she'd have to find more spare time to fix the faucet in. For now, she was late for work. Meryl glanced down at her sodden clothes with a wince. Gingerly, she unbuttoned her heavy overshirt and shrugged out of it. The dishwater had soaked through the cotton and stained her silk chemise with water. "Crap," she hissed.

"Whoa!" Vash's cry startled Meryl.

"VASH!" Meryl jumped in surprise. The gunslinger whirled around, one hand clamped over his eyes.

"I didn't see anything!" He yelped. "I swear."

"What were you doing sneaking behind me, you creep?" Meryl asked hotly, re-buttoning her soaked shirt with short, angry gestures.

There was a tinny clanging as Vash raised his bucket and mop. "I was going to clean up the mess like you asked me to!" He said, chastised.

Meryl scowled. "Well, you...should have...I don't know—knocked—or something." She said, raking a hand through her dark tresses.

"Can I turn around now?" Vash asked timidly.

"Yes." Meryl said in a tight, clipped voice. The blond gunman turned around sulkily, avoiding eye contact. He shuffled forward and, with mock weariness, began to mop the floor. Meryl sighed.

"For God's sake, Vash, you're making it worse. Can't you do anything right? Here, like this—"

She took the mop from him and began cleaning the floor with swift, economical strokes. Vash wandered over to the kitchen table, plucking a stale donut from the plate on the table and plopping unceremoniously into a chair. He took a bite of the donut, his appreciative eyes following the insurance girl's slender figure.

"That appointment?" Meryl prompted.

"Hmm?" Vash said in a spray of donut crumbs.

"What's your big, important meeting about? The one that you can't miss?"

"Oh!" Vash swallowed, flashed a lopsided smile. "I have a date."

Meryl faltered slightly, then recovered. "A date?" She echoed incredulously.

"Mm." Vash eyed her jokingly. "You jealous?"

"What? No!" Meryl said, indignant. "Why would I be jealous of your date? I–I feel _bad_ for her, actually." Meryl stammered.

Vash slid off the chair, clapped his hands to free them of crumbs. "Well," he said with sudden curtness that the insurance girl had never seen before. "I've got to go. Wouldn't want to be late." He paused, giving her a quick scan. "You look pretty bad. You should change."

Meryl gaped. "Excuse me? This is your fault."

"Hey, look at the time!" Vash cried hastily, easing away from the insurance girl. "Catch you later!" He ducked outside before Meryl could stop him. "Boy," he mumbled, tucking his hands into his pockets. "She sure is cranky."

* * *

_Several hours later..._

By the time Meryl had stumbled in from her daily job at the bar, she was sweaty, sticky, exhausted, and smelled of cigarette smoke. She tangled her fingers through her hair, sighing wearily.

The short insurance girl shuffled into the kitchen, sparing a glance at the crappy broken faucet. Too tired. She'd deal with it tomorrow. Why she was so bothered by her morning's conversation with Vash, she didn't know. She rolled her shoulders, untying her apron and tossing it haphazardly onto the couch.

"Keep going," Vash cracked, humming the 'stripper' tune.

"Vash! What—are you doing here?"

Vash blinked confusedly. "I was under the impression that I lived here."

Meryl crossed her arms haughtily. "I thought you had 'an appointment'." She said, mocking his tone childishly.

"I did. At least, I thought I did."

Meryl let her arms fall to her sides. "What do you mean?"

"She stood me up."

"Oh." Meryl tried to look disappointed. "Are you sure?"

"Mm-hmm," Vash said dejectedly.

"I'm sorry."

"Ah," Vash waved a cavalier hand.

"No, really." She paused awkwardly, feeling an unusual tension in the air. "I—"

"Sempai?" Meryl leapt, one hand flying to her chest where her heart was pounding uncommonly fast.

"M-Milly?" The big insurance girl ducked slightly under the doorframe.

"Konnichiwa, Sempai. Vash-san." She nodded to the tall, blond outlaw. "Payday, Sempai." The big girl offered Meryl a paycheck.

Meryl tucked the check into her breast pocket. "How's work coming?"

"Oh, wonderful, Sempai. I don't have to think at all."

"Gee, Milly, that's good...I think."

"I'm awfully tired, though. Say, do we have any pudding?"

Meryl winced. "No, you finished it off yesterday. Tell you what..." she gave Milly her paycheck back. "We've got some money to spare. Why don't you go buy some pudding?"

"Hey!" Came Vash's hurt cry.

"And donuts," Meryl amended hastily.

"Really, Sempai?"

Meryl nodded.

"Thanks!" The big girl turned around, lumbering back outside cheerily. Meryl watched her until she was out of sight before sinking onto the couch.

"You okay?" Drifted the broom-head's voice.

"Just tired."

"You don't look so well. Maybe you should take a break."

"I don't have _time_, Vash. Speaking of work, there's a report due next week..." She half rose before Vash caught her shirtsleeve in one hand, yanked her back down.

"You finished it already. Why don't you sit still for awhile?"

Meryl tugged her shirtsleeve back superciliously. "Too much needs to be done."

"Like what?"

"Like the faucet," Meryl said dryly. "It needs to be fixed."

"I fixed it this afternoon."

Meryl stared. "You mean, you actually did some work? Hold on—what's that? It's a bird!...no, it's a toma...no, wait—it's a flying pig."

Vash pulled a face. "I can work."

Meryl snorted. "Uh-huh."

"I can!" Vash said defensively.

"Okay, Vash you can work." She shot him one last skeptical look before moving to rise again. "I think I might—hey, what are you doing?"

Vash licked his thumb, stroked Meryl's cheek. "You had some dirt just there." He tapped a spot on his face.

Meryl was speechless for a heartbeat. Then: "Next time just tell me, for God's sake. I'll get it myself." She pushed off the couch irately, throwing the door open to her first-story bedroom.

"Hey Meryl?"

"Huh?" The young insurance girl tilted her head to indicate she was listening.

"...thanks."

"What for?"

"I don't know. Being there for me."

"Sure. Fine. Maybe someday you'll actually have a real date."

Vash looked down for a minute, and a tension tailed Meryl's words. Finally he looked up, gave one of the roguish smiles that were unvaryingly followed by his corniest jokes. "You want a date with Gunsmoke's most notorious outlaw?"

Meryl smiled sweetly. "In your dreams, broom-head." The brunette left the living room and closed the door, hand lingering on the doorknob.

* * *

Is it worth continuing? Please review 


	2. The House Always Wins

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. After I wrote this chapter it occurred to me...I've been struck by plot bunnies. Time to slap on my thinking cap...it's a little disused.

**Aine of Knockaine: **Thanks, Aine. The whole thing is still a little...wobbly. It doesn't even have a plot.  
**Silvereyerish: **haha, I'm glad you liked it! I was going to leave this a one-shot, but truth be told, it's kind of fun.  
**Peridot3783: **Lol, I continued. Do I get a review now? (I feel like Oliver Twist: "More!") Thanks so much.  
**Igbogal: **Wow...I really don't know what to say, except I've never received such a gratifying compliment in my life. thank you!  
**SiNicaLLY diSTuRbEd: **Do you have any idea what a pain in the $$ it is to capitalize all those letters? Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint you...or Kay. So here's your continuation. (P.S. Of course you know where I live. You're on my couch watching League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. I know where you live, too, and I personally vow to make you suffer for what you did to my Anne of Green Gables tape.)  
**Angelus Diabolicus: **Thanks. Seems like Vash didn't take the news to hard, huh:P  
**Sakura Mochi:** thanks. I didn't expect anyone to even notice the ficlet. I guess daydreaming isn't such a bad hobby after all...:)  
**Kabashka: **Oh, hehe. Thanks. I'll try to make him more womanizing in future chapters. There's no solid plot now, but I have a vague idea that involves much Vash-y cuteness.  
**Chinagirl2: **Thanks, Chinagirl. I didn't expect anyone to like it...your review really meant alot to me.  
**ReadingWhiz89: **Thanks for you vote, lol. I'm ecstatic that the characters are IC...considering the frazzled state I was in when I wrote it.  
**Mistyxiii: **Oh..thanks! It was just a little scene that I've been entertaining for awhile...I thought I'd put it into words, sprinkle in some seasoning, polish it off, and voila: one plotless piece of fluff was the result ;).

Disclaimer: No, I don't own any Trigun characters, except for the ones chained in my basement. --_winks at sinically disturbed--_

* * *

**Hunting Mayflies  
By: The Hellcat**

Meryl shut her eyes more tightly against the light, her hands tightening into fists, clutching her comforter. She didn't have to go to work until two-thirty, which meant the morning was hers to enjoy. She inhaled deeply, shifting in the warm cotton sheets of the bedspread. No interruptions, no stress, no concerns, no---

_CLUNK _

Meryl's reverie was shattered by a loud, metallic clang, followed at the heels by a whispered curse. _Vash._ Meryl's eyes flew open and she kicked the blanket off hastily, rolling out of bed. She struggled into yesterday's skirt, skipping the leggings, and flew into the kitchen. Meryl skidded to a halt, glanced left and right, her eyes settling on Vash's red-clad figure. For a moment she was thrown for a loop: the $$60,000,000,000 man, the Humanoid Typhoon, the Stampede…was on all fours beside the iron-cast kitchen stove, head angled toward the floor as he peered into the abyss below the appliance.

"Vash?" Meryl managed, riveted to the floor.

The blonde's head jerked up, slamming into the oven handle. He winced, cradling the sore spot, and looked up at the insurance agent through watery eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?" She demanded, returning his innocent moue with her best Meryl-glare. She could practically see the (very rusty) wheels turning in the gunman's head as he deliberated the situation.

"Oh, um…just. Just checking the oven," Vash choked out.

"Checking the oven?" Meryl echoed disbelievingly.

Vash cleared his throat. "Absolutely. Just making sure it's clean…and stuff." The look on Vash's face said he realized she wasn't buying it. "I do it all the time," he added quickly.

"All the time?" Meryl repeated. Vash nodded.

"At least once a week," he said unconvincingly.

"How come I never see you at it?" Meryl shot back.

Vash's mouth formed an "o". His eyes darted around the room, as if to mark his exits. "B-because you're always gone. Gone, ah, I mean, at work." He finished.

"Uh-huh. Let me get this straight: you 'check' the oven twice a week--"

"Once a week." Vash corrected.

"Once a week," Meryl resumed, "because….why?"

"To make sure it's safe." Vash winced, recognizing the lameness of his cover story.

"Safe? It's an oven! What's really going on?" Meryl tried to step closer, but Vash stood up suddenly, blocking her view.

"Nothing is going on. I declare the oven safe yet another week. Say, do you want coffee?" He tried to catch Meryl's arm and steer her away.

"I'm serious, Vash," she snapped, slapping his hand back.

Vash's shoulders slumped, resigned to the fact that he was going to get into trouble. "Last night Milly and I were playing poker," he began, sneaking a glance at Meryl to gauge her reaction. "Milly upped the ante aaand…I didn't have _quite_ enough to meet the bet."

Meryl let out a groan. Vash's stories always ended in the same way: trouble.

"So I--I thought you wouldn't mind if, maybe I kind of, sort of. I honestly didn't mean to---"

"For God's sake, just spit it out, Vash!" Meryl cried impatiently.

"I borrowed you earrings."

Meryl gaped. "You what?"

"I bor--"

"I heard you. You bet my earrings!"

"Well, no, not exactly."

"Well, either you did or you didn't, Vash."

"No, I _borrowed_ your earrings. They, um. They didn't quite make it to the betting pool."

"_What_?" Meryl said, exasperated.

Vash rubbed the back of his neck absently. "You see, I was carrying the earrings from your bedroom to the table, and Milly was coming from the kitchen. She had just refilled her glass."

"You were drinking alcohol?" Meryl queried, disapproval evident in her tone.

"Just a little."

Meryl pinched the bridge of her nose. "And?"

"And she was a little ah, tipsy."

"I'm sure she wasn't alone," Meryl muttered.

"Anyway," the gunman continued loudly, "we sort of collided. And she spilled brandy all---everywhere. So, I guess I dropped the earrings and---"

"They fell under the stove," Meryl guessed.

"Not quite. I slipped in the brandy and fell head over heels, and I must have--accidentally--kicked an earring under the oven. But I managed to find the other one," he concluded brightly, holding up the jewelry for her to inspect."

"Give that to me," Meryl said tartly, snatching the earring away.

"It's good that you know now," Vash said cheerfully. "Your hands are smaller than mine. Maybe you can reach it."

Meryl shot the gunman an acid glare, crouching beside the stove. "Can't we just move it?"

Vash shook his head. "No, I tried that and, uh, remind me to buy you a new teapot."

"What happened to the old one?"

"When I went to move it the whole thing tipped and the teapot slipped completely off the burner and--"

"Forget it," Meryl interrupted. "I don't want to know." She craned her neck beneath the oven. "I can't see it."

Vash hunkered down next to Meryl. "It's right there," he said, his breath ruffling her hair.

"Where?" Meryl asked petulantly. "I don't see anything."

"There." Vash pointed.

"I don't see it," Meryl said with an air of finality. She started to stand.

"Hold on." Vash snatched her work tie and tugged her back down. He curled his hand around hers and worked his arm underneath the oven. "There. Can you feel it?"

Meryl concentrated, sweeping her hand along the floor. "Hang on…yes." She squirmed a little, chewing her lower lip.

"Have you got it yet?"

"Almost…there!" She recoiled her arm, holding up the small, slender earring. Dust clung to the gold, made it shine dully in the early light. Her chest was heaving with effort, and a few stray ebon hairs fluttered around her mouth. Vash's hand was still clamped around her wrist and he was so close she could smell his aftershave. The atmosphere quickly grew awkward, slightly charged.

"Meryl," Vash breathed.

Meryl felt a sudden thrill of fear and tried to keep it in check. She had never seen him this serious---not since Legato. His aquamarine eyes were alive in the soft kitchen light, his lips parted boyishly.

"Yes, Vash?"

"You have dust on your forehead." He put a hand to his forehead to indicate where the smudge was. "Right here."

* * *

Thanks for reading; have a nice day :) 


	3. Shop 'Til You Drop

**A/N: **Haha! Midterms are through. I've celebrated with a chapter _this _week because next week, when the tests come back, I probably won't be in the mood to celebrate.  
**ReadingWhiz89: **--_sigh_--. I'm still stricken with the deadly plot bunnies plague. At this point, the prognosis is weak; I can only cross my fingers and hope for the best. Thanks for your review.  
**Sinically Disturbed**: Pssh. I'll go over to _your_ house and warp _your_ Roger Rabbit DVD. See how you like it. P.S. I stll haven't gotten over the fact that Tim Burton directed a happy, stupid, fluffy, love-at-first sight movie. His reputation will never recover. I'm so disappointed.  
**Peridot3783: **Wow. Thanks for the review. I'm still hunting for a plot...they're elusive though. It looks like I might just do what you suggested: a series of unconnected vignettes. Hope you enjoy this chapter :)  
**Celesma**: Yes! I've finally graduated from fourth-grade humor! I needed some way to get my "writing ya-yas" out...Thanks for your review. P.S. This chapter is overloaded with Vash's clumsiness. ;)  
**Ajd262: **Haha, thanks! Your review was great. Gave me incentive to write Chapter three. And guess what...I'm still suffering from those darned plot bunnies. Hmm...seems like your plan worked :p  
**Inkydoo: **Lol. I'm glad you picked up on that! I don't think many people did...Thanks for reviewing.  
**Lady Dark Angel: **Here you are! More silly Vash and Meryl plotless fluff. Will a storyline ever appear? Nobody knows...  
**Daimon080: **Thanks! That was one of the greatest reviews I've had. I hope you enjoy this chapter :)  
**Zeon of the Twilight Blade: **I've gotta say, you left the most interesting review I've ever read---I just about died laughing. I finished this chapter as quickly as possible so as to avoid undue Thomas trampling. P.S. Just to give Knives a heads-up...I'm a fanfiction writer too...better watch your back. P.P.S. I have never in my life written fluff before Hunting Mayflies and, shockingly, I'm not a big fan of either fluff _or _romance. That's almost as rare as a male fanfiction author ;) P.P.P.S. Is it just me, or are the P.S.s longer than the review?  
**Igbogal: **You leave the best reviews ever...I'm thinking about nominating you or something. Seriously, thanks for the review--made me feel special :p.  
**Pottachu: **Thanks! This is the first fluff I've written. I didn't expect anyone to like it. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

**

* * *

**

**Hunting Mayflies  
By: The Hellcat**

Click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click.

Vash was bored. He clutched a pen in his right hand, clicking it open and closed absently.

Click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click.

His aqua eyes wandered to the window. Behind the fluttering muslin curtains, a truck rattled past, leaving behind a cloud of red dust that hung in the still air.

Click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click.

The sound of the pen clicking echoed in the open house, joining with the twitter of birds at the windowsill and the staccato clacking of Meryl's typewriter to form a sort of symphony.

Click-click-click-click-cli—

The sound of a gun being cocked broke the monotony of Vash's daydreams. He brought his eyes slowly, hesitantly, away from the windowpane and found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. A derringer, to be precise.

Meryl ran a hand through her short, ebon hair frustratedly, holding the derringer level with Vash chest. "Drop. The damn. Pen."

Wordlessly, Vash opened his hand. The pen fell to the table, rolled off and dropped onto the floor with a clatter.

Meryl re-holstered the derringer with a glare that clearly read "talk to me and I will shoot you." Unfortunately, Vash was never good at reading expressions.

"Sheesh. Somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed today."

"Vash," Meryl forced out through gritted teeth.

"You've been cranky all week."

"Vash!" She said, sharper this time.

"What's the matter? Is it your time of the mon—"

"VASH!"

The outlaw lapsed into a stricken silence. Meryl ripped her weekly report from the typewriter, slid a pen from behind her ear, and signed "Meryl E. Stryfe" with short, furious gestures.

"I'm not in the mood today," she said shortly, by way of explanation.

"I can't help it, Meryl!" Vash whined. "I'm _bored_."

"Go get a job! Run some errands! Do something—I don't know—_productive_." She sealed the letter and looked up at him. "Do _not_ sit in front of the kitchen window and click a ballpoint pen for—" she checked her watch "—two and a half hours."

"I wanna go outside and play!" Vash cried.

"You're a liability. I can't allow that."

Vash crossed his arms huffily, staring fixedly at the table. "I'm 130," he groused, "you'd think I'd be old enough to go out alone."

"Yes," Meryl replied acidly. "You're 130 years old. When are you going to learn to _grow up_?"

"Can we please, please, _please_ do something today?" Vash begged. "Please?"

"Vash, I don't know if that's a good—"

"Come on! I'll be good. I promise."

Meryl glanced warily at the tottering stack of paperwork to be filled out. "Vash," she began.

"How about shopping? Let's go grocery shopping. Please?"

Meryl bit her lip, remembering the painfully empty cupboards. She did need to get some groceries. And she couldn't leave Vash alone in the house—she shuddered as she thought about what mischief he might cause. Besides—what harm could he do? She would be right next to him, keeping an eye on him. It'd be nice to have a break from documentation for once...

"Okay," she agreed slowly, against her better judgement.

Vash blinked at her. "What?"

"I said 'okay'. You should listen once in awhile."

Vash looked at her with wide-eyed, little-boy wonder. "I didn't think you'd actually agree."

"Yeah, well, I'm beginning to have second thoughts," the short insurance girl replied tartly.

"N-no," Vash scrambled to his feet, accidentally knocking over the kitchen chair. "Don't change your mind. It'll be fun." He righted the chair and flashed her a cheery smile.

* * *

_Aisle One: breads and canned goods_

Twenty minutes later, Meryl found that her doubts had been justified. The moment they stepped inside the stuffy, overheated grocery store, Vash had been overcome with boyish enthusiasm. He needed to touch everything, look at everything, examine every detail.

"Ooh, what's that?"

"It's a muffin, Vash."

"Can I have it?"

Meryl sighed. "_No_, Vash."

Vash opened his mouth to complain, then shut it again as his eyes wandered over a pyramid of canned beans. "Wow, this looks great. Let's get some."

Meryl had hardly opened her mouth to say "okay", when Vash grabbed an armful of cans from the bottom row of the pyramid. The entire display groaned, lurching forward. With a crash, the tower collapsed, cans rebounding and rolling over the shiny white linoleum. Meryl dragged Vash into the next aisle, clamping one hand over his mouth.

"What are you doing!" She hissed, hazarding a glance over her shoulder. The intercom spluttered to life.

"Cleanup in aisle four. Cleanup in aisle four." A handful of employees in red aprons rushed over the scene, shoes squeaking against the polished floors.

Vash pried her hand away from his mouth. "I was just trying to get some canned beans," he whispered back, staring earnestly down at her. She was a full two feet shorter than him, and he wondered briefly how such a small woman could be so...intimidating.

"That's it," she said. "Don't touch anything. Don't look at anything. Don't–don't even breathe on anything. When we get home..." She shook her head, leaving the sentence open.

"When we get home, what?" Vash picked up, winking suggestively.

Meryl rapped him upside the head. "_I'm _going to kill you and collect the bounty myself."

Vash laughed uneasily. "That was funny. Good—good joke." He paused. "You were joking, right, Meryl?" Meryl gave him one last scathing look before stalking away. Vash stood, riveted to the spot for a moment. Then he collected himself and hurried after her. "Right, Meryl? Meryl?"

* * *

_Aisle Seven: Dairy products._

"Mm, milk. Can we get some milk?"

"We've got milk."

"Yeah, _old_ milk."

Meryl twisted around, glaring at Vash. "I got it two days ago. It's fine."

Vash sighed like she was being impractical. "Do we need eggs?"

Meryl hesitated. "Go ahead and grab some," she said finally, moving on to examine the cheeses. She had just turned her back on him when she heard a loud, distinct _CRA-ACK_. Meryl froze. Slowly, _slowly_, she turned to look at Vash. He was cradling a carton of eggs in his hand—an empty carton of eggs. A dozen splattered yolks lay scattered around his feet. Vash looked up at Meryl, cringing.

"Vash!"

"It's no big deal, Meryl. They only cost...ten double dollars."

"_Ten double dollars!"_

Vash fidgeted uncomfortably. "Sorry..."

"That's it. We're leaving."

"No! I'm done! I won't touch anything." He looked at her seriously. "_Any_thing."

Meryl snatched the empty egg carton from him and tossed it into the cart. "You better not," she growled.

"Hey—what if I push the cart? Then I wouldn't have to touch anything."

Meryl looked down at the cart. It seemed like a good idea..."All right," she agreed at length, relinquishing the cart. "But be careful."

No sooner had the words left her mouth when Vash was running down the aisle. "Look!" He cried gleefully, glancing over his shoulder. "No hands!"

"Vash! Watch—rack—look out!" Meryl stammered. There was a thunderous crash as Vash ran headlong into a rack of juice kegs. The rack overturned with a metallic clang, sending juice cartons skittering across the floor. The cart was on its side, wheels spinning, groceries spilling onto the ground. The outlaw sat up, nursing a bruised elbow. He bit his lip, wincing as he took in Meryl's expression.

"Oops."

* * *

_Aisle Two: Frozen entrees, ice cream, and beer._

Vash walked silently down the aisle behind Meryl (who had taken over pushing the cart), watching his reflection ripple past in the glass of the freezer doors. Behind the doors, he could see frost-covered cardboard boxes with instant meals and frozen entrees. Meryl paused here and there, checked her list against the food behind the doors, and moved on. Vash had shoved his hands into his pockets and was earnestly trying to follow Meryl's orderswhen a large, block-printed sign caught his eye: ICE CREAM.

"Meryl!" He cried excitedly, pressing his nose against the glass. "Look! Ice cream."

"What did I tell you about touching things?" Meryl chastised.

Vash ignored her. "Can we get some ice cream? Pretty please?"

"No; we don't need it."

He looked at her hopefully.

"No," she repeated firmly.

"Fine," Vash surrendered glumly. He followed Meryl's path down the frozen goods aisle dejectedly, shoulders slumped in defeat. Until another flashy label caught his eye. "Hey, look! Beer! Let's get some." He rushed over to the door and flung it open before Meryl recovered from her shock.

"NO!" She cried. She darted between the outlaw and the freezer, banging the door shut on his hand. "No! No beer—absolutely not."

"Ow! Why not?"

Meryl turned to face him, keeping her back against the freezer door. "Be-because."

Vash wiggled his fingers, trying to remove his hand from the freezer. "That's not a very good reason," he pouted.

Meryl snatched the collar of his red duster, yanking his head down to her level. "Because I said so." She said evenly, daring him to argue.

Vash opened his mouth to respond and was cut off by a passerby. "Hey, people—get a room. Sheesh."

Meryl, sandwiched between the freezer door and Vash, quickly released her hold on Vash's lapel, a look of mortification spreading over her features. She scrambled away from the gunman hurriedly, face flushing.

Vash hastily freed his hand from the freezer door, turning to face Meryl. "Um, well, I guess we should go."

"Yes!" Meryl agreed loudly. "We should." She scrunched a hand through her hair, cheeks glowing red. "Where did I put the shopping cart—Oh, there it is. Let's check out. Now."

Vash dropped a considerable distance behind the insurance girl, pulling the collar of his coat up to hide his face. He was certain of one thing: he would never, _ever_ go grocery shopping again.

* * *

Next Chapter---  
Problem: Meryl is late getting dinner started. Solution: Vash helps. Somehow, this doesn't seem like a good idea...  
(_Preview of Chapter Four: _"This doesn't seem right, Vash. Are you sure you followed the directions?" Meryl poked uncertainly at the liquidy goop with a wooden spoon, trying not to gag on thefumes wafting off of it.  
"Of course.Half acup of milk,two cupsof flour," he began reading off the cookbook, "a teaspoon of vanilla, a cup of water, sugar, butter, two eggs. I followed it to the letter." He glanced up. "Maybe the water wasstale."  
"How could it be stale? You used thewater from the tap, right?"  
Vash's eyebrows furrowed. "Nooo," he said slowly, "I used the bottle water. I thought it would taste better."  
Meryl blanched. "Vash. We don't _have_ bottled water."  
"Sure we do." Vash picked up a glass bottle filled with viscous liquid to illustrate.  
"Vash," Meryl cried, snatching the bottle away. "This is _vinegar_."  
Vash blinked, uncomprehending. "Huh?"  
"Vin-e-gar. You just poured a cup of vinegar in Milly'scake!"  
Vashread the bottle's label, lips pursed.He glanced back up at Meryl's exasperated face. "I'm sure it'll tastefine...")


End file.
